


Big Damn Heroes

by tifaching



Category: Firefly, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Future Fic, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 10:23:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16700686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifaching/pseuds/tifaching
Summary: There's some difference of opinion on whether Sam and Dean are heroes.  The crew of Serenity comes to think they are.





	Big Damn Heroes

Mal doesn’t have a lot of rules. Mostly, he’s got guidelines, situational ethics, a sort of personal code that he enforces among those close to him by sheer force of will. Still, there’s one iron clad rule he’s adopted and beaten into the heads of his crew and that’s don’t ever lose track of River because when you find her again, you’re likely to regret ever having let her leave the ship. Tonight she’s his responsibility. Well, his and Jayne’s but he wouldn’t trust Jayne to babysit an empty patch of dirt, so, really, it’s all on him when he glances down and sees an empty space where thirty seconds ago there’d been a girl.

“Gorram it,” Mal mutters, scanning the crowded room. Midnight’s come and gone but even in a small town on an isolated backwater planet like this one, gin joints don’t empty out for hours more. Shouldering his way through the throng of raucous imbibers, he keeps an eye out for either of his companions. He spots Jayne first, sprawled in a chair at a table tucked into a dimly lit corner. He’s not alone; two other men occupy the other seats. Burly and bearded, their eyes are shadowed by hats pulled low over their foreheads, but Mal can see enough of their features to mark them as brothers. Good. Jayne at least is making his assigned contact with the local smugglers. Jayne glances in Mal’s direction and laughs as he notices River’s not with him. He drains his glass and with a few short and obviously humorous words to his companion, he joins Mal in his search.

“So,” Jayne says with a smirk, “I guess me and Wash and Zoe and Kaylee and Book and Simon and Inara aren’t the only, what’d you call us? Oh yeah, idiots who can’t keep track of one, single little girl. Will you be on kitchen duty for a week now?”

“Rules are rules, captain or crew,” Mal says. And they are damn it, because when you don’t follow them bad things tend to happen to your life and the life of everyone around you. The crowd parts just at that moment so Mal can see exactly what kind of bad thing is likely to happen in his life this at very instant. River is at a table in the corner opposite the one Jayne just left. She’s leaning forward, palms pressed against the tabletop, long brown hair swinging around her shoulders. In about a second she’s going to hike up her skirt and climb right on top of it to get even more face to face with two men Mal puts right at the top of the list of people in the entire ‘verse he never, ever expected to see again. He reaches River’s side before her table climbing leg is more than three inches off the ground and gently grasps her shoulder to keep her feet firmly planted. Or, that’s what he tells himself. If River really wanted to be on that table, she’d be on it and nothing he could do would stop her.

“Evenin’” Mal says studying the objects of River’s fascination carefully. One man is tall, broad shouldered and sharp eyed. Brown hair with just a hint of silver hangs in waves to his shoulders, held in place by a braided leather thong across his forehead. The other is shorter, stockier with close cropped hair and eyes like chips of frozen lake water. It’s been nigh on twenty years since he saw them last and aside from dark circles under his eyes and a pale tinge to the smaller man’s face, they haven’t changed at all. He has though, and with any luck they won’t recognize him and he can collect River and walk away clean.

“Mal,” the taller man says with a small smile. The other man’s lips twist but he’s got all his attention on Jayne, who’s returning his stare with suspicious interest.

“Sam,” Mal says with an internal sigh. “Dean. Fancy runnin’ into you two here.”

“Wait.” Jayne takes a step forward, eyes still on Dean. “You know these guys?”

“He knows them,” River says, “and they know him.” She leans forward as far as she can, going up on tiptoes to stare into Dean’s face.

“River,” Mal warns. “Boundaries, remember? We talked about them.” River nods but doesn’t move back and Mal’s sigh is audible this time. “Well?”

“Boundaries,” she says, tilting her head as she speaks as if reciting a lesson. “Things that close you in. Things that block you out. Don’t crowd no one ‘cause it’ll likely end in cracked skulls.” River narrows her eyes like she can see right into Dean’s brain . “He doesn’t have any boundaries, though. He used to, once, but someone went and knocked down all his fences. Now he’s lost in the wide open spaces.” She reaches up a finger to almost touch his cheek. “Just like me.” Sam moves slightly in his chair and Mal readies for action but River just shifts her weight until she’s in Sam’s face and goes right on. “You’re not empty.” This time her fingers make contact with Sam’s forehead. “Not enough room here for everyone that’s home.”

“Okay.” Dean’s face is closed in a way it hadn’t been when River had been speaking to him. “Time to take your girl home, Mal. Don’t know what you were thinking bringing her here in the first place.”

“She ain’t technically my girl,” Mal says. “But she is crew. And if you were anyone else, I’d tell you to have a care how you do with her. She’s got some qualities the likes of which I ain’t seen since the last time I ran into you all.” Neither Sam nor Dean moved, but Mal’s not relaxing. He’s seen these two in action. “Now,” he continued, “it might be real interestin’ to see how a scuffle between you and her would turn out. But there are two of you to one of her and I expect you boys have been at it a mite longer. Jayne, River, this is Sam and Dean. Now we’re all introduced and there’s no need to be causing any mayhem here, am I right?”

Dean huffs out a laugh. “Well, Mal, your balls sure ain’t gotten any smaller. What are you doing on this craphole anyway?”

“Vacation,” Jayne says. “Heard this place was a garden spot.”

“Following a beacon,” Mal says, ignoring Jayne’s squawk of protest. “It’s okay, Jayne. Whatever they’re here for it’s not to poach our salvage.”

“Well, you’re right about that.” Sam holds his hands up and levers himself out of his chair in one smooth motion. “Dean?”

Dean sweeps the room with one last laser focused gaze then nods as he too rises, holding onto the table to steady himself. He looks at River, then Mal. “Really, you should get on home. We’ve been here a while. Don’t think there’s anything, uh, out of the ordinary left here. And if there is, we’ll handle it.”

“You planning on ‘handling’ something right here and now?” Jayne’s hand hovers over the knife sheathed at his belt.

“No,” Dean says. “Like I said, I think we’re done here. So we’re leaving. And you are too.”

“Bossy.” River says, tilting her head at Dean. “Just like Simon. He tries to tell me what to do. But Mal took me tonight anyway.”

“Simon?” Sam cocks an eyebrow as he looks at River.

“My brother. He’s bossy.”

Sam outright grins at her. “Yeah, I know the type.”

“Okay,” Dean mutters, pushing past Sam and hoisting a pack to his shoulder. “Enough brother bashing. Time to go.”

As Dean moves out under the lights of the bar, Mal’s surprised at his pallor. “Simon’s not only a bossy big brother, he’s also our doctor.” Sam and Dean aren’t exactly friends, but he does owe them. “You fellas due for a check over? You’re looking a mite peaked.”

“I’m fine,” Dean grumbles. “Don’t need no medic pokin’ at me.”

“Simon’s not a medic,” Mal says. “He’s a doctor, Alliance trained. Best there is.”

“Don’t matter,” Dean says, voice hardening and River reaches out to touch his hand.

“Simon can’t help you,” she says in her light voice. “Just like he can’t help me. He’d try. But he can’t.”

Dean just nods, lips pressed into a tight line as he and Sam herd the others toward the door. “We’ll walk with you back to your ship.”

Jayne snorts. “Ain’t much to be scared of out here.”

“You’d be surprised,” Sam says, clicking on his flashlight as they head off into the dark.

Mal wouldn’t be surprised. He knows what’s out there.

*

Zoe has watch and the door drops open as they arrive, its golden glow a beacon leading them forward.

“You nearby?” Mal asks Sam as they pause at the bottom of the ramp. “Cause if you ain’t, we’ve got a couple of spare bunks and enough fresh provisions from the locals to put out a pretty good breakfast.”

“Near enough,” Sam says, scanning the surrounding darkness, before dropping his gaze to River and then back to Dean. “But we could stay,” he adds after some sort of unspoken communication passes between them. “Pretty tired of eating our own cooking.”

“Well, the very least I owe you is a good meal.” Mal sweeps his hand forward to get them up the ramp. “Welcome to Serenity.”

“Not feeling the peace and quiet vibes,” Sam says, paused just inside the cargo bay with Zoe’s rifle pointed at him from halfway up the stairs to the upper deck. He flings a hand out to rest against Dean’s chest. “You mind putting that down, miss? Having a gun pointed at me tends to agitate my brother.”

“Miss,” Zoe says with a grin. “Ain’t been called that in a good long while.” Dark eyes give both of them a thorough looking over. “I weren’t happily wed, I might look to agitate him in other ways.” She shifts her gaze from Sam to Mal. “Captain?”

“Stand down,” Mal says and Zoe lowers her weapon.

“Captain,” Dean says with quirk of his lip. “You’ve come a long way, kid.”

“Is it far enough?” Sam asks with a hint of sympathy in his voice and Mal just shrugs.

“This is Zoe, my second in command.” Zoe nods in their general direction, rifle slung at her side. “Zoe, this is Sam and Dean. Old, uh, acquaintances.”

Jayne hits the switch to close the bay door and Mal turns with the brothers to watch it rise until it shuts with a loud clang of couplers engaging. Mal breathes a little easier, as he always does, when he’s locked away from the night.

“Zoe, make sure River gets to bed,” Mal says, trying to catch Sam and Dean’s whispered conversation as they huddle near a bulkhead over the clomping of River’s boots running up the stairs. Dean’s hissing something about a trap and Sam’s making the very valid point that this is not their ship to go painting things on. Sam apparently wins as he pulls Dean back over to Mal and Jayne.

“We secure?” Sam asks, casting a doubtful gaze around the bay.

“Locked up tight as a drum,” Mal says a little defensively. “Serenity’s no pushover.”

“Good to know.” Dean shifts his pack as his eyes dart around the room. Cataloguing all the exits, Mal knows. Mal remembers. “So, that and the sawbones all your crew?”

“Well, we also have Wash, our pilot; Kaylee our mechanic, Shepherd Book and Inara. But Inara’s off ship for the next few weeks, so you won’t be meeting her.”

“Off ship where?” Dean’s voice is sharp and Mal involuntarily backs up a step as Jayne’s hand again drops to his knife.

“Uh, she’s a Companion. I rent her a shuttle and she comes and goes when she needs to.”

“So, not off ship on this planet.” Dean relaxes a little and gives his brother a small grin. “A Companion, huh? Hey, Sammy, remember when you…”

“You have a Shepherd on board?” Sam cuts Dean off before he can finish.

“Yeah,” Mal says. “Don’t generally have much truck with them myself, but this one’s earned his keep. Probably asleep by now…”

“Or readin’ one of his books,” Jayne butts in. “You’ll meet him in the morning.”

“Yeah.” Sam gives Dean a quick glance. “You were saying something about a bunk?”

Mal leads them up the stairs, Sam and Dean behind him and Jayne bringing up the rear. The cabins for paying guests are on the other side of the ship but there are a few spare crew quarters and Mal takes them there. He trusts them within reason but close is better if they mean any harm.

“Here.” Jayne pushes back a hatch, revealing a short ladder down to the room below. “Next one up the way’s empty too.”

“We’re good with this one,” Sam says, shouldering past Jayne and settling his feet on the ladder.

Jayne stares at him for a second, gobsmacked that Sam, a head taller and equally packed with muscle had moved him out of the way like he wasn’t even there. “There’s only one bed,” he says, shaking his head. “And the floor ain’t comfortable.”

Dean looks at him with a ghost of a smile on his face. The tip of his tongue appears and traces his lips, leaving them glistening. “We’ll figure something out.”

Mal manages to keep a straight face as Sam disappears down the ladder, Dean right behind him, and the hatch slams shut. The gobsmacked look still resides on Jayne’s face, but now there’s a tinge of something else there as well. Dean might be sickly, but he’s still got features too pretty to be resisted when he puts his mind to it. In combination with Sam, it’s a one two punch that’d people off their guard if they’re not careful.

“I thought they said they were brothers!” Jayne’s whispering and Mal just grins.

“We don’t judge,” he says with false sanctimony and Jayne rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” he says, blowing out a deep breath and then another. “I’ll be in my bunk.”

“Sweet dreams,” Mal says. His are unlikely to be.

Sleep doesn’t come quickly. If he’s being truthful, Mal would rather stay awake than trust that his rest would be peaceful tonight. But they’re on planet for a reason and a tired leader makes mistakes. After one last restless toss and then a turn, he closes his eyes and falls into a deep breathing pattern Book spent a few hours teaching the crew as a relaxation method. Mal might have eavesdropped a bit. A three count in, a three count out, emptying his mind, willfully unclenching his muscles. In two minutes, he’s asleep. In three minutes the memories fight their way through.

*

_The ship comes out of nowhere, spewing smoke, rocketing though the sky just north of the tiny town of Miller’s Portage in the waning hours of daylight. Mal’s not the first to see it, that would be Mabry Jenkins who grabs him by the arm and spins him around, pointing toward the clouds._

_“Look. Look, Mal! Too big to be a supply hopper! It’s a spaceship! Ain’t it?”_

_Mal’s silent as the craft disappears out of sight into the foothills a half days ride away. It hadn’t slowed down at all and there’s a sudden rumble like distant thunder as it presumably met the earth headlong. “I ain’t seen a spaceship any more than you have. I ain’t met anybody who’s seen a spaceship. And as fast as that thing was going I think we still ain’t going to see a spaceship.” There’s a hollow in his chest because nothing would be better than to get on a ship that would blast him off to anything away from the dirt and the heat and the never ending monotony of his existence. “We could take the horses and head out tomorrow to find it. Maybe there’ll be something out there we could use.”_

_“You, Malcolm Reynolds, are not goin’ anywhere.” Mal sighs as his mother’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Market’s just about over and you’ve ditched your work enough for one day. Come on back and help your sisters and me load the wagon.”_

_“Did you see it Miz, Reynolds?” Maybry’s arm traces an arc from the sky, across the open plain to the rapidly darkening mounds of rock and earth in the distance. “Did you see the ship come down?”_

_“Was it Alliance?” Ma’s eyes are wide and her lips are tight and Mal remembers quiet whispers of defiance and news of small acts of rebellion against the provincial government. Acts he’d be more than happy to join in on if there were government of any sort at all nearby to be inconvenienced by him._

_“Don’t know what Alliance looks like, Ma.” Mal gasps as she grabs his arms and tugs and they’re sweeping through the doors of Bob Swope’s tavern in the middle of town._

_“Boys saw a ship come down in the foothills,” Ma pants out. There’s only a few people drinking at the tables, but every last one gives her their undivided attention. Nothing like this has ever happened around here before. “They can’t say what it was so it likely wasn’t a supply hopper.”_

_Swope stands behind the bar, big hands with scarred knuckles gripping the edge. “You lot,” he says, addressing the men at the tables. “Get armed and keep watch.” He looks at Ma and Mal and Mabry, and grimaces in something Mal thinks is supposed to be a reassuring smile. “Probably nothing. Better safe than sorry, as they say. Now.” He turns to a cabinet behind him and unlocks it with an ornate iron key he keeps on his belt. He motions the boys closer as he pulls out a packet wrapped in leather and begins to lay out sheets of paper atop the bar._

_“Whoa,” Mal says, looking over the layout. “You seen all these ships?” “I seen a few.” Swopes shakes his grizzled head. “My daddy owned a place like this back in New Austin when I was your age. Lots of retired spacers came through. Some were kind enough to let a kid pester them to describe their ships so I could draw them. You boys see anything there looks like what you saw?”_

_“That one’s closest.” Mabry points at a rectangular ship with engine pods attached to either side. “But not quite it.” Mal looks over and nods agreement before turning his attention back to the other pictures._

_“Was it a big ship?”_

_“Hard to tell, it was moving so fast. And the smoke made it hard to see it all. But maybe the size of a couple of Mr. Allen’s stock barns put together.”_

_“Cargo freighter, most likely. Maybe carrying passengers. Me and some of the boys will head out in the morning to see what’s what.” He squares his shoulders as if to gather some courage and begins to put the papers back in their pouch._

_“Wait,” Mal says, holding his hands over two of the pictures. He’d plop his palms right down on them but the paper is old and the pictures are detailed and his dirt encrusted hands should be nowhere near them. “What’s this?” He points to a large, black square with hundreds of points of light meticulously drawn._

_“That’s an Alliance command ship,” Swope says with a scowl. “Man who told me about that one was a prisoner on it for thirteen years.”_

_“It’s big, isn’t it?”_

_“Probably fit fifty of those ships you saw inside it. You were standing next to it, you’d be like a little tiny bug.” His scowl deepens and his already ruddy face flushes. “Just how the ruttin’ Alliance wants you to feel.”_

_“Mr. Swope.” Ma’s voice is hushed and urgent. Though there’s not been hide nor hair of any Alliance soldier anywhere near here, ever, stories have come through. No one wants to be on the wrong side of that kind of trouble._

_“What about this one?” Mal’s only got half his attention on the adults. He’s more interested in the coal black ship with silver trim and grated metalwork up the sides of its engines._

_“That one.” Swope’s voice drops a bit. “Most of these pictures I worked on for years, adding more detail every time another crewman off them came through. This one, though, only one man ever did admit to seeing. It’s not a big ship by his telling, but not planet bound either. Came down from space and went back the same way. He didn’t call the ship ‘it’ though. This one was always ‘she’.”_

_“Whose ship was she?” Mabry’s eyes are wide._

_“Wouldn’t ever say. But the look in his eyes just thinking about it… Whatever happened when he saw this ship it was something powerful bad.”_

_Mal shudders as he wistfully watches the last of the papers disappear and Swope returns them to the safe. “Can I see them again sometime?”_

_“Sure thing, son. Next time you’re in town.”_

_Daylight’s fading and Mal’s helping his mother and sisters load up the wagon. “We heading home, Ma?” he asks, staring down the dusty thoroughfare that heads to their homestead. “Moons are full tonight. Be able to see most of the way.”_

_“No.” His mother shakes her head and nervously peers toward the foothills, now barely visible in the diminishing light. “Mr. Swope kindly offered us the back room at the tavern. There’s cots enough for all of us. Malcolm, get your rifle and all the extra shells and come along.” She’s already headed down the street toward the tavern, dragging Evvie and Liv by the hand._

_The tiny room’s dingy, windowless, a single lantern sputtering as the blackened wick burns low in the oil. Liv and Evvie curl against each other in a single cot, Ma huddled in another pulled up between them and the door. Mal waits until they’re breathing deep and sound, before grabbing his rifle and sneaking out, wincing as warped floorboards squeak beneath his feet. He intends to go no further than the front stoop but the murmuring of voices lures him down an alley toward the small group of men gathered behind an overturned wagon at the edge of town. The twin moons are full and bright, filling the night with a bluish hue that casts long black shadows behind everything it flows over. And out on the plains, something is moving. Fast._

_“What is that?” he whispers._

_“A painful bloody death.”_

_The voice is low and deep and unfamiliar and Mal’s pretty sure his isn’t the only heart that gets a jolt to set it racing. He whirls with the rest of the men and points his rifle at two men he’s sure weren’t there when he arrived just moments before._

_“Who the hell are you?” It’s Mabry’s pa, side by side with Mal, rifle also raised. “Talk quick before ‘you’ get a painful, bloody death.”_

_A shadow steps out of the darkness, tall and lean and reaches out an oversized hand to tilt Mal’s rifle back in the direction of the plains. “Might want to save your ammo for what’s out there. We’re not a threat to you.” An unspoken ‘yet’ hangs in the air. For a moment._

_“Yet,” growls the other man, still back in the shadow between two buildings. “You don’t point those guns away from my brother and towards what’s coming we’re going to have a problem. And trust me. We’re not what you need to be having a problem with.”_

_“Decide quick,” the tall man says. “They’ll be on us soon.”_

_There’s a long, drawn out silence. Swope’s standing a bit apart, still facing the oncoming shadows. “Who are they?”_

_“Not who,” comes the voice from the shadows. “What. But since I’ll wager not a man of you has ever been off this rock and you don’t have a clue what’s out there, we don’t have time to explain. Just know they’re more beast than man and act accordingly.”_

_“Look,” the tall man says, shaking his head in frustration. “We don’t have time for this.” He reaches in his pocket, pulling out a bag that rattles as he drops opens the strings and reaches inside to pull out bullets that perfectly reflect the moonlight. “Load your guns with these. Take extra for when you need to reload. Gather everyone in a defensible place and if they get to you, aim for the heart.”_

_“And don’t miss.” The other man walks out of the shadows, gun in each hand, to stand beside his taller companion._

_The men are grabbing handfuls of bullets and scattering back into town. Mal loads up his pockets and holds a bullet up between his thumb and forefinger. He’s never seen anything like it. “What’s it made out of?”_

_“It’s called silver. Now load your damn gun and scram, kid._

_“Name’s Mal Reynolds.” He rams the bullets into his shotgun’s chamber and slams it closed. “And I’m fourteen. I’m not a kid.”_

_“Dean Winchester,” the shorter man says. “Since we’re bein’ all formal and all. And this is my brother, Sam. As far as you being a kid or not…” he shakes his head. “I guess we’ll see.”_

_“Dean.”_

_“I know.”_

_“Dean!”_

_“I know, Sam.” Dean reaches out and pushes Mal’s shoulder. “You got family here?”_

_“Yes.”_

_“Then get back to them and remember.” Dean thumps his fist in the middle of his chest. “Aim for the heart.”_

_Mal nods and turns to race back to the tavern, heart suddenly pounding with fear. He’s never shot at anything bigger than a jackrabbit. He’s not sure what’s coming but he’s never been more frightened in his life._

_Ma’s awake, sitting on the cot, blanket wrapped around her shoulders. “What’s happening?” she whispers, careful not to wake the girls._

_“Something’s coming,” says Mal and that’s when the cacophony of gunfire and howling roars begins. The girls wake, crying, and Ma gathers them up under the blanket with her._

_Shouts and screams and running footsteps sound outside and the crack of guns discharging moves closer, coming from inside the town. Mal leans his weight against the door; it has no lock on the inside. There’s a hole a little above eye level and he presses his face to it, scanning the room on the other side, the door, the windows. One of which shatters under the force of a large body crashing through it and Mal gets his first look at what came from the foothills._

_It’s huge and hairy and its face is just wrong with bared fangs snarling in rage all his horrified eyes can see. It rolls to its feet in time to see three of its companions vault through the open frame. Mal can’t breathe, but from the way the creatures cock their heads and sniff the air he’s sure they can smell his terror and hear the blood rushing through his veins. There are four of them. He’s got two bullets ready to go and he’s sure they won’t give him time to reload. He’s about ready to back away from the door, losing his line of sight but maybe gaining time to get more bullets in his gun when there’s a slam of footsteps across the wooden porch and Sam and Dean burst through the door._

_What happens next is a blur, almost too fast for Mal’s eyes to follow. The creatures separate; two launching themselves at Sam and two at Dean, the shots they get off hitting their targets but missing the heart. Mal’s sure they’re done for, but both men move like nothing Mal’s ever seen. Chairs and tables fly, wood splintering as they beat the beasts back with every tool at their disposal. One monster’s stilled for a moment, a wicked blade shoved through its foot, impaling it to the floor but it still strikes out with fearsome claws whenever one of the brothers sails by. Mal takes one deep breath, then another. Before he can lose his nerve he pulls open the door and fires a shot into the chest of the stationary beast. It collapses immediately, gone between one instant and the next._

_“Nice shot, Mal,” Dean yells, tumbling into a forward roll that culminated in another bullet dead center of another chest. “Now, these are the last ones that haven’t realized they’re dead yet, so grab your folk and get out the back.”_

_“Ain’t no back,” Mal yells in return, moving back behind the non-existent safety of the flimsy door._

_“No back?” Dean hollers between crashes and grunt of pain. Three more shots ring out in rapid succession followed by the thudding sound of bodies dropping where they stand. Heavy footsteps sound across the floor and the door shudders at a forceful knock. “Open up.”_

_Mal edges the door open a crack, then wider as he sees both Winchesters standing there. Behind them, dawn’s faint light begins to brighten the remaining windows._

_Dean raises a finger and looks at him sternly. “Don’t ever, ever trap yourself in a room with only one exit. You hear me?”_

_“Yes, sir,” Mal says and Dean looks startled. Truth be told, Mal’s a little startled too. He hasn’t given anyone that deference since his pa passed four years ago._

_“Good,” Dean says, looking away. “Now, we got some clean up to do. Ma’am, you and the girls should stay here until we’re done. It ain’t too pleasant out there right now.”_

_“Who…who are you?” Ma whispers._

_“Sam and Dean Winchester,” Mal says. “They saved us.” He takes his first breath in hours that doesn’t squeeze his chest. “They’re heroes.”_

_“Oh, yeah,” Dean mutters, casting a glance across the bloody, body strewn floor to the street beyond. “Big damn heroes.”_

*

 

Mal thrashes awake to the memory of burning corpses, monster and townfolk alike. He’d scrubbed rivers of blood from his hands that day. Mabry, Mal’s best friend since toddlerhood had been dead in the street, face torn away, identifiable only by his shock of red hair. Swope was gone too, his burly remains ripped apart, one arm found a hundred yards away from his body. Mal snagged the iron key from his belt before the tavernkeeper had gone onto the lamp oil soaked bonfire. Swope didn’t have kin and Mal kept his pictures safe and secure. Even added to them. There’s a Firefly class craft among them now. He’s used to the dream, has it every once in a while, but last night was the worst in a long bit. Sighing, he rolls out of bed and gets set to join the crew at breakfast.

In spite of his unpleasant awakening, Mal’s mouth waters as he nears the galley. The aromas of bacon, fresh bread and strawberries drift tantalizingly down the hall along with the sound of voices and laughter. Kaylee’s the cook this morning. And afternoon and evening. She lost track of River almost a week ago in a market on Alkaban. Mal will take it over next. Rules are rules. But the crew will regret having to eat his cooking. Even Jayne’s is better.

“Morning, Captain!”

Mal’s lips twitch up in the face of Kaylee’s irrepressible smile. “Mornin’ all.” Most of the crew is there. Wash and Zoe sit together at the far end of the table, quietly discussing his intense dislike of eggs. Simon’s helping Kaylee set the table and Shepherd Book is trying for the hundredth time to explain one of his ancient religious texts to Jayne.

Wash notices Mal’s eyes wandering the table. “River has gone to fetch our reportedly strapping and outrageously handsome guests,” he says, wrapping his arm around Zoe’s waist and pulling her close. “Reported by my beautiful wife.

“Don’t be jealous, dear,” Zoe says with a wicked smile. “You’re all the strapping handsome man I need. Wash preens a little, eyebrows rising when River drags Sam and Dean into the room.

“Now we can eat,” Kaylee says as the newcomers slip into empty seats at the table. _Wow_ her lips form silently at Zoe behind the Winchester’s backs as she places platters of fried potatoes, eggs and bacon on the table.

Dean reaches for the bacon but Sam slaps his hand down. “Don’t Shepherds usually say a blessing?” he asks.

“Oh, yes, we do.” Book nods. “But Mal doesn’t see the need so it’s generally silent as each person wishes. Feel free to join in.”

Sam bows his head for a brief moment of silence while Dean tips a half dozen strips of bacon onto his plate and begins to munch contentedly. Eyes still closed, Sam elbows Dean in the side.

“Ow! Bitch.”

“Jerk,” Sam mutters back, heaping eggs and potatoes on his plate. “So, Shepherd, what teachings do you follow?”

“The main teaching of the Shepherds is the Christian bible,” Book says, after swallowing a mouthful of eggs. “Of course, I’ve studied all the religious texts I could get my hands on. The library at the abbey was most extensive. The Talmud, the Koran, the Buddhist texts.” He pauses for a moment with a small smile. “The gospels.”

“Thought they were part of the bible,” Jayne says through a mouthful of egg and potato.

“There are many gospels,” Book says and Sam and Dean both stifle groans.

“Many are way out of print, though,” Dean says, dropping his forehead onto his palm. “Thank Christ.”

“Oh, I think you’d be surprised at how up to date they’ve been kept.” Book leans back and inclines his head. “Just last month I found a bona fide prophet of the Lord in a market on Bhupest. Managed to snag a first edition detailing an incident about twenty years ago when the warrior heroes saved a village from marauding werewolves. The stories provide inspiration for many. The real events,” he sends a look Mal’s way, “inspire even more.”

“You’re heroes,” River says brightly. “You saved Mal from the monsters.”

“Wait, these guys are in the bible?” Jayne looks up from his plate, confused.

“Honey,” Simon’s speaking from the head of the table. “They didn’t save Mal from monsters.”

“They did.” River’s voice rises. “They saved Mal. They’re heroes.” Dean’s shaking his head and Sam’s looking away and River reaches out to take each by the hand. “Two by two, hands of blue. Two by two, hands of blue. The men with the blue hands hurt me. Drugged me. Cut me open. Were their hands blue? The ones who did this to you?”

Dean shakes his head, mouth a hard line. Sam just smiles sadly. “Mostly,” he says,” their hands were red.”

River nods and goes on, as if unaware of the stares directed at her from around the table. “That makes sense. They put things in. They take things out. They make us who we are. And sometimes we’re bad things. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be heroes when we help.”

Dean pulls in a deep breath. Lets it out. “Well,” he says, rising from his seat. “That’s too deep for me.” He inclines his head to Kaylee. “I understand you’re the genius that keeps this old girl in the air. Care to show me around the engine room?”

“Sure!” Kaylee jumps up to lead Dean out of the room. “I’ve got some work to do on the hydraulics anyway. You’ve got no idea how hard it is to fine parts for older ships.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised at how old some of the parts of my ship are,” Dean says with a smile as they head out the door.

“Dean,” Mal calls, “don’t forget the Doc here can check you out.”

“Think you better check Mal out, Doc,” Dean hollers back. “Think he needs his ears checked because I told him I was fine.”

Kaylee and Dean disappear down the hallway and Simon turns his attention to Sam. “Is he really all right?” He does look very pale.”

“He’ll be fine,” Sam says with a wry shy shake of his head. “He’s just got an itch that needs to be scratched and he’ll be right as rain.” The silence around the table has him looking around in confusion.

“He’s not planning on scratching that itch with Kaylee is he.” Simon’s on his feet, ready to rush down to the engine room.

“No.” Sam holds up a hand. “No. Not that kind of itch. He’s got that covered.” Sam grins. “Very well covered.”

“Very, very well covered, I’d say.” Book nods at Sam and raises an eyebrow. “The walls are _extremely_ thin.”

Jayne groans and grabs his plate as he heads out the door. “I’ll be in my bunk.”

“We head out in an hour,” Mal says and Jayne waves a hand at him in acknowledgement. Wash and Zoe head out to prep for the salvage operation and Simon to sick bay to inventory his supplies. When only Mal, Book and River remain with Sam, Mal finally asks.

“Why are you two here?”

“Hunting monsters,” Sam says.

“More werewolves?”

“No. This was a wendigo.”

“Ohhhh,” Book says. “That one goes way back.”

“Look,” Sam says defensively. “Not everything in those books…” He stops suddenly as Book starts to chuckle.

“Kind of late for that denial, son.”

“I suppose it is.” Sam levers himself to his feet. “I better collect Dean and head out or he’ll spend a week here. And it looks like you all have things to be getting to.” He gives Mal a grin. “And your salvaging will go off without anyone being eaten.”

“Great,” Mal says. “Exactly how I like it. But we got time to walk you back to your ship. If Kaylee didn’t get to see the engine room, I’d never hear the end of it.”

*

Sam has to drag Dean kicking and screaming out of Serenity’s engine room and, in the end, Mal has to do the same with Kaylee. When the others have said their goodbyes and headed back, Mal lingers for a moment.

“It was good to see you all again.” He pauses with a grin. “And may it be another twenty years before I see you again.”

“Hey,” Sam says, shaking Mal’s hand. “You got any problems in the future, just ask Book. He seems to have all the resources.”

Mal retreats a safe distance and watches the ship take off, squinting after it until it’s just a dot high in the blue of the sky.

*

Later that evening, after the salvage is stowed and dinner consumed, Mal brings out the old leather satchel, pulls out a picture and studies it, remembering how Swope told him so long ago about the terror it had supposedly inspired. He’s seen it in person twice now, once outside his small village and just this morning. He pulls out his pencils and markers and carefully begins to round out the left engine casing where Dean installed a cannon to match the one housed on the right.

His crew’s gathered around him in the galley, relaxing and resting from the day when Book comes in, holding an obviously ancient tome, the binding held together with heavy swatches of tape. He sits at the table, opens the book to a marked page, and clears his throat. “I’d like to tell you a story,” he says. “And I’ll make it brief. It’s a story about Earth that was and the guests we had last night. The guests, who no matter how much all involved tried to deny it, did indeed save Mal from werewolves twenty years ago.”

“All ears, Padre,” Mal says, not looking up from his work.

“We’ve been gone from Earth for hundreds of years, leaving it dead behind us. No fault of ours or our people, but of the Alliance sort. Never were ones to preserve or protect, they used everything up until they killed our home. Anyway, on earth back further and further than that, when it had mostly clean air and mostly clean water and enough room for everyone to spread out, there were monsters.”

Jayne snorts and Kaylee whacks him on the arm. “Monsters,” he says with a laugh.

“There were werewolves like Mal had to deal with. Vampire that would drain you of blood. Demons that would suck out your soul. And to fight these monsters there were men and women called hunters, who had the knowledge and skill and weapons to fight those that would slaughter humanity. Way back in the days of old, two hunters were born to the line of Winchester. Sam and Dean.”

“So,” Zoe says slowly, “these men are the great, great, however many great grand descendants of those men?”

“According to the gospels, of which there are many, Sam and Dean are the same men spoken of in the very first volume.” He closes the book on his finger and taps the cover.

Kaylee leans close and squints to make out the faded picture. “No,” she says. “That don’t look anything like them.”

“Nobody ever saw what they looked like, really, except the prophet who had visions about them that he documented in his books. So they just had to guess.” Book himself eyes the picture and shakes his head. “And they guessed poorly. So, Sam and Dean hunted the monsters and saved people and did what needed to be done for a long time. But then the problems kept getting bigger. Humanity ending, apocalypse type scenarios and they kept us going every time. Several of the gospels note God himself appearing to them to aid or give them missions.”

“Wait, God?” Simon sounds incredulous. “God, God?”

“The very one. And it is written that in their last meeting God was leaving. Leaving them, leaving Earth. And Dean was afraid and didn’t know how the world would carry on without God’s power. And God said that Earth would be fine with men like Sam and Dean to watch over it. And he left it in their hands. And they kept it safe for centuries until saving it was no longer within their power.”

Mal makes another stroke with his brush. “They bought us enough time to perfect space travel. Enough time to get off before we all went down with the planet. They were big damn heroes.”

“Big damn heroes,” River echoes.

“So, do you have more of these gospels?” Kaylee asks. “Cause I’d sure like to read them.”

“I do,” says Book. “And in addition to being exciting, suspenseful and occasionally erotic reads, they are also a fount of knowledge on how to kill just about any monster that ever existed. So, fun and educational.”

“Fun and learnin’ how to kill things? Finally a book I want to read.” Jayne trails the others as they follow Book back to his cabin.

Alone in the galley, Mal finishes up painting the cannon and moves on. The nameplate had been redone, letters now silvery bright. He adjust the colors and concentrates on outlining them perfectly. One after another in a straight line he fills them in against the jet black of the ship’s body. When he’s done, the word IMPALA glows off the paper. He blows on the ink carefully until it’s dry and then slips the paper carefully back into the pouch. He’s sure he’ll see her again and add whatever innovation the brothers have come up with for her.

“I don’t care if you like it or not,” he says softly. “You’re big damn heroes and you’ll always be big damn heroes. Be safe,” he wishes them as he flips off the light.


End file.
